Hungry flames
by J.A.Kishu
Summary: Sherlock is eight and has a secret hiding place but it becomes a deadly trap for two young brothers.
1. Secret Base

**Hungry flames**

 **Chapter 1: Secret Base**

„Mycroft is coming today. Mycroft come to visit. Yippee" Eight year old Sherlock jumps, still in his pajamas, through the kitchen, dancing around his mother who is preparing breakfast for them and smiling at her youngest.

"Yes Sherlock he is. Now go get dressed so you are ready when he arrives after breakfast." Sherlock runs back to his room to get dressed. "Don't forget to wash yourself." Calls his mother behind him. Since he knows the date of Mycroft´s visit there is no stopping him. But it is understandable. After growing up together without many other children. They had only each other, not one of their class mates could follow them, most of the adults' ether.

As Mycroft arrives home, Sherlock was still on the table eating his toast. The door bell rung and Sherlock runs to the door, forgotten manners, toast or that they had in fact servant that would answer the door for them.

"Myc. Myc. Myc." Was all Sherlock could say as he jumps into his brothers arms. "You are late. I missed you. Will you come with me later, I will show you my secret base, no one else knows about it. Please can you stay until I´m old enough to come with you or I will hide in your suitcase and you take me back with you. Don't let me alone again-" Mycroft had to stop the bubbling with his finger on Sherlock´s fast moving mouth.

"First of all, good morning little brother, how was the first day of your holiday. My journey was pleasant thank you for asking." His brother wanted to protest about all that good educated manners. "Yes you can show me your place in the afternoon but let me first go inside, say hallo to Mummy and settle in. We have all summer to have fun. You don't need to do everything you planed in your little head at once. Alright." Sherlock nod and Mycroft carries him and a suitcase inside the hall were the case was taken by one of the servant and their mother waiting to great her son.

* * *

After Mycroft´s 'settle in' and having lunch they got ready for Sherlock´s little adventure but Mycroft doesn't mind even now, fifth-teen and being official too old to play. It was time he could spend with his little brother, the most important person in his life. He loves his brother since the day he was born. As his parents came back from the hospital holding this little human being, Mycroft´s first and only thought were to protect this small creature. The first night Mycroft sneaked out to watch his baby brother sleep but Sherlock wasn't sleeping he was looking at him with huge intelligent eyes, smiling brightly.

"I will protect you little brother, trust me. I will do everything to keep you save." That might sound a bit desperate for a seven year old but he had already learned that the world and especially people can be very cruel.

* * *

Getting ready his mother called him back, Sherlock waiting inpatient at the front door. "Have fun but don't come back to late, there will be a bit of rain in the evening and you don't want to spend you holidays sick in bed, right." Her smile was generous like always. Other mothers had prohibited the trip but she let them free, she knew they could work out problems and both were smart enough to know when it was time to go home.

"Yes, mother. Do you know what hiding place Sherlock want´s to show me?" Mycroft was curious but Sherlock could keep a secret.

"No, darling. I thing he found it a month ago but I would never follow him. If he feels save there it´s all I need to know. Now go have fun." With this words they were send out in the early afternoon, bright sunshine and a blue sky above them.

* * *

Mycroft follows Sherlock to the back yard, climbing over the fence and running through the fields. He knows that there is nothing special in that direction. The family mansion is at the end of the small town they live in and all what come after it just fields and a forest.

"Is your secret base in the forest?" Mycroft had to ask. But Sherlock just laughs, a laugh that let the sun get dark compare with the brightness that shines out of his brother. He loves it when his brother is happy and would stop everything that could stop this smile.

"No it is behind the forest. Found it as I was looking for mushrooms. Do you know how many kinds of mushrooms are poison and can´t be eaten. I found a book in the library and got nearly all that are local in the area." Sherlock smiled proud of his achievement.

"Hope you didn't eat the poisoned ones." Mycroft had to look serious, not that his brother would thing someday it could be a good experiment. Like the one time with the cleaning substance.

"Of cause not. My tummy would hurt if I would do it. But I took one of every mushroom with me and from the eatable a few more so mummy could cook them. They were delicious." Mother would allow many things normal eight years wasn't allowed, she knew Sherlock and of cause Mycroft too were special and she did her best to give them, at least at home, everything they need to be happy. That school and people can sometime be boring or cruel was a thing she couldn't change.


	2. Storm

**Chapter 2: Storm**

On the edge of the forest was a long forgotten farmhouse. Not too old to be dangerous but for decades uninhabited. Mycroft smiled, this wasn't exactly what he had expected but it suits Sherlock. They both could fit through a hole in the backdoor and climbing up the stairs to the attic. Just a small ladder leads up there and in the attic itself was only a small window, much smaller than the hole in the door Mycroft had barley fit through it. But the window gave enough light so the room wasn't completely dark.

The 'door' was at the other end of the room and they set close to the window where Sherlock had made a small place for himself. It must be items he had found in the house, a few old blankets, two very old looking books, some candles (no lighter, Mycroft was glade, there was no playing with fire for him), old magazines and newspaper from 20 years ago. Surprised about the state of this items, they look old but not rotten in an old wet, windy house.

As they sit down Sherlock looks up, expecting a comment about his place. "I like it; it's a very nice place Sherlock. You have chosen a good position. You can see when and who is coming. It´s dry, warm and protected from wind and weather." He looked pleased by these words. It was always like this; Sherlock was starving for attention and praise. Something Mycroft gives gladly.

* * *

Over the afternoon they talked about all the things that happen while they were separated, plans for the future of their holidays and ate snakes Sherlock must have sneaked out. It was always the best only the two of them. No other people who would say they are strange or freakish only because they were geniuses but none of them notice the change in weather.

The first thunder stops their brotherly talking. Both looked out of the small window. The rain was pouring down and a strong wind started. A thunderbolt follows; the first one had they missed. Sherlock fascinated by the power of nature watched the storm building up. Mycroft wasn't too happy about it. They had to wait until the storm passed. He wouldn't run outside by that wind, they would get sick till they reach their home.

"Myc, over there another thunderbolt, look!" Sherlock´s childish excitement was influence, his brother wasn't distracted by thought like how they get home dry or getting wet on the way.

"I see it. Do you like thunderstorms?" He had to ask. There was a job called 'storm hunters' and Mycroft didn't want to encourage that for Sherlock. A bit guiding in young age was good.

"They are interesting, the power a storm has, the amounts of water that fall from the sky, the wind that can knock down strong, old trees, the loud thunder that's all very interesting. Never really thought about liking or not. Can we go to the library to get a book about storms tomorrow?" Mycroft smiles, he loves it when his brother was happy like that. "Of cause we can." Mycroft would do everything to keep that smile on this face.

A sudden crushing noise of breaking wood and pure energy let them both flinch and turn around. The other end of the house lies in ruins. Parts of the roof came down to the middle of the house. A thunderbolt must have hit the house. They were lucky, if it had hit the other side they would be buried and probably dead. Sherlock had jumped into Mycroft´s arms as the house was hit, shaking like a leave in the wind. He was not the only one who was afraid but Mycroft was the older one that means he had to keep calm and not to panic. He hadn't thought that the storm was so dangerous. Even if they wanted to get out and run home they couldn't anymore. The way downstairs was blocked. Mycroft tries to think about a save way out but come up with nothing both of them were able to do.

Sherlock pulls on his shirt to get his attention. "Myc, look." He whispers and points to the wreckage. Before Mycroft can see what Sherlock is pointing at, he hears it too, the cracking sound of a fire. The flames are still small but growing fast, too fast to stop them. The dry material the house was made out it was perfect sustentation for the fire.

The situation has changed dramatically. They couldn't wait here until the storm was over and hope someone will find them; no they need to get out of here immediately. Sherlock begin to cry. He is only a frighten child clutch at his big brother. Mycroft has to find a way to save him. It´s his job. He is supposed to protect him; he had promised it the small baby not older than a few hours. And he will keep his promise.

The only escape was the small window behind them. There was no way Mycroft would fit but with a bit pushing Sherlock would be able to get through it. The way down was long. Sherlock has to jump and it will probably hurt, he will get hurt but live and right now the most important thing.

"Sherlock, listen to me." Mycroft pulls the crying mess of his brother away from his body to look him into the eyes. Sherlock stopped crying, shocked by the force his brother used. "You will live you have to trust me. I know a way for you to get out of here but you have to do what I say." Mycroft´s voice shows no fear or panic just strength and safety.

"You will fit through the window, feet first and I will hold you down as far as I can and then you have to let go. I know it is a bit scary to fall but if you bend your knees it shouldn't hurt too much." While Mycroft was explaining the plan Sherlock begins to shake his head slowly understanding what his brother is telling him.

"I will stay with you I don't want to go alone. Myc, please don't let me alone." The tears were falling again.

"I´m sorry Sherlock I would prefer to stay together with you but taking you with me would be wrong and it is maybe a bit selfish but I want you to live, I want to protect you and to save you one last time. Do you understand what I try to tell you? Let me be a last time your big brother who keeps you save. My last wish as you could say." Sherlock looked with big, sad eyes at his brother; he tries to remember every millimeter of his face because the smile Mycroft shows him now would be the last one he would ever see. He nodded slowly.

Mycroft stands up, takes a heavy piece of wood from the floor. "Step back." Sherlock goes behind his back as he uses the wood to break the window. Pieces of glass fall to the ground and on the floor. Mycroft takes most of the glass out; the remaining sharp pieces are hit and pushed out or down. He takes the blanked from the ground and places it on the windowsill. Satisfied with his work Mycroft turns around, lifts Sherlock up and pushes his legs through the window.

"Myc, wait." Sherlock was to surprise to fright back earlier. "Please I don't want to leave you hear. Don't let me alone. Please." Mycroft looks into his little brother´s eyes, a last time.

"Sorry but the fire is coming closer and I need you to go away as far as possible from the house. Even if you hurt your feet or legs. I want you to crawl away if necessary. Understand." Mycroft was serious and to the same time sends his voice all the love he feels for his little brother over. Sherlock had stopped the struggling and let Mycroft push him further. Through the window holding on one of Mycroft´s arms the two brothers look at each other.

"I love you Sherlock, stay save and sorry for letting you here. Now, please let go."

"I love you too, Myc." And Sherlock let go of his brother´s hand and falls. Falls in a world without the protection of his brother, he falls into a life without the guiding hand of his beloved brother who was always there to explain the world for him.

The crash knocked all air out of his body and a scream of pain filled the world. Pushing away the black corners in his sight Sherlock looks up and can see his brother´s head looking down out of the window. "Sherlock are you alright?" He calls down.

Sherlock nod with tears in his eyes, knowing his brother wouldn't follow him down, that he was trapped. "Sherlock?" Realizing that his brother couldn't see his nodding he shouts up to him. "Yes, Myc, I´m okay."

"Good, than go away from the building, it´s dangerous." Sherlock tries to get up but his left foot hurts too much und breaks away under his weight. Only standing on his right one, Sherlock jumped and humbles away from the burning house, his secret place and his brother. As he was far enough Sherlock sits down and turns to the house, Mycroft wasn't to see but the window was not empty, orange flames were eating the wood. The noises of busy fire were load in Sherlock´s ears. The rain and wind around him stayed unnoticed.

* * *

Sherlock doesn't know how long he had stayed in on the field, alone in the storm. He can´t remember, not the arrival of the fire brigade, not the village people who recognized him and not his mother hugging him and crying as she starts to understand what had happen. The first thing he really notices again was a night nurse checking on him. He was in a hospital, his leg treated and his mother sleeping in a chair next to his bed.

His first night on this planet without his brother. Silent tears run down his face until the nurse notice he was awake what lead to his mother jumping up by the noises she made by trying to comfort me. But none of them could help him, the only person who would be able to, doesn't exist anymore. He was swallowed by the flames.


	3. Older than you

**Chapter 3: Older than you**

Today was a special day for Sherlock Holmes, not a happy day actually a very sad occasion. No one really thought about it or does know it but today was the first day that Sherlock got older than his brother. He was fifth-teen as he died. Fifth-teen years, four months and twenty-one days; Sherlock´s current age is fifth-teen years, four months and twenty-two days. He is older than his older brother. And that is something that wasn't right. An older brother is supposed to be the older one, the wise one the younger one can come looking for advice.

Looking back to the day, like so often since Mycroft had died, he had been a child himself, making a decision an adult would struggle. He had saved him. Sherlock was alive and save and he hates it. Sherlock hates his life with an over protective mother and an absence father. He hated the pity looks he gets whenever the topic came even close to Mycroft, fire or brothers in general. Sherlock gets them from his family, teachers, his psychologist, the neighbors and everyone else who knows it. It was big in the newspapers, over weeks, while Sherlock hid in his room, locked to get away from his parents.

He wasn't in school today, he rarely visits in general but he hadn't survived a day with the stupid bunch of people who are called his equal in knowledge and intelligence. His mother had given up sending him to school, she was happier when Sherlock stays at home, in safety.

His parents didn't blame him for what had happen. It was an accident and no one's fault. But Sherlock doesn't see it that way. It was his hiding place. He was the one who choose to go there. He had made his secret base by a location his brother would be trapped. It was his fault and no words from his parents or his psychologist could change that. It was a constant companion on his way through life without his brother.

But not today, because today was the day he would get rid of all of it and he know exactly what he needs for that. Leaving his home and his mother who thinks he is on his way to school; Sherlock took the next train to London. London the big city that should provide what he need to sleep or thing without his brother in his mind.

Yes Sherlock loves his brother and he is always with him but he would like to have a few hours without the pain and the guilt. Just a few hours, maybe sleeping a bit and then he would go back home and pretend nothing happened. No one would stop him. The person who would be able isn't here and the reason he will do it.

For a bright mind like Sherlock´s it was easy to spot a drug dealer in the subway tunnels. He followed him for an hour to make sure he wasn't from the police and his customers look good enough to be sure the stuff he sells isn't too bad.

The interaction was short, Sherlock copied the behavior of the last few customers, by coming from the left side of the drug dealer, ask for 'the usually' and give the man 20 ponds. Successful with the first try, Sherlock was quick to leave the man, the subway and make his way to an old building he had spotted on the way from the train. No longer used and perfect for Sherlock.

He hadn't really thought through the whole thing but now in the progress everything worked out was easy to achieve, no one stops a teenager buying drugs, no one cares when he is not at school and finding a location was giftwrapped for him as if someone would want him to have it easy and take the drugs. But Sherlock doesn't believe in god. A god had saved his brother; if there is a good he hates him more than blaming himself for it.

The building was empty not even a rat or a homeless was inside. Sherlock had the place for himself. With his new drug and the equipment he got from a pharmacies, he found a clean place and without thinking over it or much hesitation the drug was in his system less than a minute later.

The feeling he was looking for followed fast. All his thoughts, his whole mind was emptied. No Mycroft, no pain, no guild, nothing. It doesn't matter anymore. Relaxing against the wall Sherlock drifts away with a blissful look on his face. Eyes half closed and not seeing the world around him.

* * *

The feeling stayed for a few hours and as Sherlock came down from his high he felt rested for the first time in ages. It was his first time but not the last. Over the next months the trip to London became necessary whenever the guilt became too much and the number increased continually. His mother found out about 'not going to school' but she didn't asks where he went instead. Not that Sherlock would have answered.

Sometimes Sherlock wants just to forget his life, become someone else but he will always be the brother who had survived that 'accident'. His mother could call it accident as often as she wants but it won´t change Sherlock´s feelings. The drug does that just fine.

* * *

Sherlock, now seven-teen should go to university next month but there is no way he would do that. It was always Mycroft´s dream to study and he never got the chance to do it. Why should he?

Again in London with a very large portion of his drugs he went back to the place he hadn't visit since the funeral; Mycroft´s grave. He hadn't visited before because he felt as that he had no right to do it. He was the reason Mycroft was dead why should he be allowed to get a bit comfort of a visit? But today was different because it wasn't about comfort it was about joining.

Sherlock sits down by the grave looking at the letters and numbers on the head stone. A whole decade without his brother, that was enough time to live in a world where no one really cares about you, no one likes you and no one would miss you. Sherlock gets up again and sits behind the stone. He doesn't want his brother to see it but he needs a bit of his present to go through with his plan.

Sherlock gets the syringe ready with enough of his drug to kill an elephant, not a baby elephant. Looking up in the sky seeing a bird cross his vision, Sherlock sighs and set to syringe at his skin ready to stab into his vain.


	4. Stranger by the grave

**Chapter 4: Stranger by the grave**

"Hey you could you give me a hand?" Surprised by the speaker Sherlock turns around looking for the person who must have directed his question at him because no one else was here. The syringe was hidden behind his back. He doesn't need the stress that someone stops him. A young man, a few years older than Sherlock with blond hair and loaded with heavy looking backs.

"Yes, sure." Sherlock gets up; the syringe stays on the ground behind the headstone and walks over to the man taking one of the bags off his hands. They walk back in to Mycroft´s grave what get Sherlock an unsecure feeling, not alone because of the drug but also about what the man wants there. But he changes direction in the last second and walks to the grave next to Mycroft´s. They put the bags down and the boy sits for break.

"Thanks, man. Didn't think it would be that heavy. You are a lifesaver." The man smiled at him. "I´m John, nice to meet you. Guess our relative are neighbors." The man, John spoke with an easiness that let Sherlock look at the headstone they are sitting in front of. It says Harriet Watson; she had died five years ago. Judging by John´s appearance the laugh and the smile were real and generous but also hide a sadness.

"Was Harriet your sister?" Probably rude to ask but Sherlock was on the way to kill himself why should he bother about the feelings of another human being who understands him better than most.

"Yes, she was but she preferred to be called Harry. She never liked her feminine name. Don't know why." She only became nine-teen not much older than he is now.

"You were the younger one, right." Sherlock didn't know why he asks that question or better searching for a confirming of his deduction. Maybe he could talk to someone before he leaves someone who will understand and doesn't judge or tries to help.

"Yes, by a year, how did you know?" John doesn't sound angry or hurt just surprised. He could risk it. What else could he lose? But he doesn't need to explain it.

"You have the same look in your face like me every time you think about your sister." John looks over to Mycroft´s grave. Reading the date of death sends a strange emotion over his face, one Sherlock couldn't name.

"It doesn't get better with time?" John comments dryly.

"No, sorry to tell you." And he means it. Sherlock felt sorry for John, to tell him the truth. It wouldn't change, gone is gone and wouldn't come back. No power in the world would give them back what they had lost. Sherlock goes back to Mycroft and sits on the ground next to the syringe. He would wait until John leaves to finish his plan but right now having companion was nice. John sat still in front of his sister´s grave.

"How did your brother died, was he sick?" A question that could be asks by Sherlock, without social niceness or emotional content. He risk a short look over to John before turning back to look at the sky.

"He burned to death." Not what he intended to say and he wants to stop there but suddenly he wants to tell a stranger something he hadn't told anyone.

"I had a secret place; it´s rubbish just some old farm house by the wood behind our home. Myc came from school, it was our first day together since ages and I showed him the place, we had fun and a good time. We hadn't notice the storm. A lightning hit the house and we were trapped. My brother was too big for the only exit, a small window. So he pushed me through and I fell down. Got my foot broken but he was only worried about me. Said I have to go away from the house. As I turned back he was gone. He saved me and I couldn't see him to the end." While telling John his story Sherlock felt tears running down his cheeks. He hadn't cried about Mycroft or himself for a long time.

"Sorry didn't want to push down the mood further." Sherlock joked to cover up his crying a bit. Pulling his knees to his chest and hugging his legs helped a bit. Hiding his face was even better. No one needs to see his tears. Not even a stranger on the graveyard.

"Don't be sorry, I asked and I don't think the mood would much change anyway. They being death will never change but maybe the knowledge that you are not alone will." John sounds calm with his emotions controlled, or it sound that way for Sherlock.

"How did your sister died." Normally he wasn't interested in the lives of other people he could read enough himself without asking through his deductions. But what John´s sister happened, that would be a knowledge he would like to have.

"Car accident, she was on her way home from a party, she was drunk and her friend drove back, Susan was her name. She had only one or two drinks but she lost the control over the car and crushed into a tree. They hadn't a chance." John´s eyes are fixed at the grave stone. "She had promised to come and watch one of my games the next day. Our parents have to work the whole day so she was the one who always watched." He was deep in his thoughts, as Sherlock´s answer pulled him out of his mind.

"Rugby, right. But you have stop playing after she died. Your reason to play was gone." Sherlock´s mercury eyes were fixed at John, like a mirror, endless, to get lost inside.

"How…?" John couldn't ask the question but felt as if his mind was read by the teenager. Sherlock waits for John to finish the question or say something else but it didn't come. Both stayed by the graves of their sibling.

"You never gave me your name, is it also special like your brothers? Mycroft, never heard it before." Changing the subject, not bad but also fair, Sherlock thought.

"Sherlock, my parents had a few strange ideas apparently but I think I was lucky." Looking over to John again and he sees the beginning of a very long laugh attack. John´s eyes filled with tears, laughing tears, no crying tears. He had to hold himself on the ground with a hand to not fall over and he laughs a beautiful laugh that let Sherlock join in after a minute. It was ridiculous, he know his name is unique but something like that never happens before.

"Sorry. I´m so sorry. I don't laugh about your name, more about your comment." With a hand he let his tears disappear and smiles at him. No one had smiled at him like that for ten years. The last time he saw a smile like that was on the day Mycroft died. Sherlock had to turn away for a few seconds to collect himself. That John character was strange and surprising and somehow exactly what he needed.

"You are the first one that smiles at me like that for a very, very long time." He sighs, what use had it to tell a stranger he will never see again things like that. Especially when his life would end the second he was alone by the grave.

"Would you like to go for a coffee or tea if you prefer that, my treat for making my day better than most and I think our siblings will agree with me when I tell you that sitting at someone´s grave is a bit depressing." He winked at Sherlock and get up expecting him to follow but Sherlock doesn't want to leave, no he want to leave but to another place.

"What make you think I would go with you?" It sounded a bit more hush than intended. He hides his face at his legs and hopes that John would leave him alone or get angry and walk away even faster or anything that doesn't force him to change his mind.

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe I want you to live and not waste the life you brother tried to save." Spoken with a hard voice Sherlock realized John knows exactly what lays beside him. "When you not sure right now you can give me the syringe, we have a coffee and talk about it. When we are finished you can decide if you want to throw away the gift you brother made you or you can go home or stay with me whatever suits you better. But I won´t leave you here with whatever drug you have there beside you." John sounds serious and a bit like Mycroft when he had tried to help Sherlock understand that sometime there are things we don't like but have to do it anyway to our best.

Since meeting John here Sherlock had felt many different emotions. Emotions he had forgotten about. He had forgotten how it was to love or enjoy the companion of another person. He had smiled and laughed without forcing it. John was the first light he had since Mycroft´s death and it was different from the emptiness the drugs gave him. With John he could remember his brother without feeling all the guild and regrets. He could feel the love and the trust. He lays his hand at the headstone, the hand next to the drugs and whispers: "Guess I should go with him."

"Your treat?" Sherlock asks louder and hearable for John.

"Yes and I let you pick the location. I have a feeling you have one or two address that are not normally visit." As Sherlock stands next to John he gave him the drugs, all of it. The filled syringe and everything in his pockets. John puts them in his coat pocket´s without saying something.

"I know a place, not a café but I can hear your stomach. It´s called Angelo´s and I think it matches your taste." They smile at each other and walk down the pathway to the exit. They not letting behind their siblings they will visit again but without intentions to stay forever.


End file.
